


good old-fashioned lover boy

by nanasekei



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (kinda), Didn't Know They Were Dating, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Human Disaster Steve Rogers, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Pining, Post-Avengers (2012), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanasekei/pseuds/nanasekei
Summary: Tony is thrilled about his new relationship with Steve. He's on cloud nine, in fact. It's so amazing he can barely believe it's real.He just wishes they could... Uh.Toucha little. Just a little.





	good old-fashioned lover boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cachette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cachette/gifts).



> For Cachette. Thank you for your lovely prompts (and for your amazing art as well!). And thanks to my beta for reading through this!

Ok, so, here’s the thing: Tony never, in a million years, thought Steve would say “yes”.

Not because of some exacerbated insecurity or anything. As anyone who knows him can attest, Tony is far from oblivious to his appeal. He knows he’s an attractive man, and that he could charm his way out of nearly anything, if he wanted to.

He also knows he’s good at flirting. He knows how to be seductive without being inconvenient, how to be flattering without exaggerating, how to be suggestive without pushing any boundaries. He has mastered his technique over years, practicing with many different people. He never had any trouble getting a date, and, to be completely honest, he doesn’t think he ever will.

But.

There is a huge difference between _dating,_ in its usual simple, casual meaning, and the utterly other-worldly, mind blowing, frankly almost terrifying concept of dating Steve Rogers. Dating is easy, but dating _Steve_ – going out for a movie with Steve, holding his hand, kissing him after the night is over, asking if he wants to come up to the penthouse… If you ask Tony, there’s an entire universe of distance between these two ideas. They’re barely in the same astral plane.

And Tony—Tony doesn’t even know what possessed him to ask. It had been an insane impulse to rival every single one of his most self-destructive habits. There he was, in the kitchen, filling himself with coffee, when Steve walked in with a book in his hand, sitting on a stool. He was wearing his grandpa clothes, his brow was furrowed and his blond bangs were falling a little on his forehead.

Tony watched him, and at one point he closed his book and fished out the tiniest notepad from his pocket. He wrote something down, tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth, deep concentration as his fingers brushed his bangs to the side, and Tony had thought: _Oh. Oh, I wish I could have him._

That hadn’t been a new thought – actually, it bordered on repetitive at that point, echoing in his head anytime he watched Steve do basically anything - but it apparently resonated with something in Tony’s sleep-deprived brain, because the next thing he knew, he was rambling about reservations that he had made for him and Pepper, and how Pepper had cancelled, and how he missed eating steak, and if Steve wanted to have dinner with him.

And Steve said yes.

And that—well, to say it caught Tony off guard would be an understatement. He had just stared at Steve for a moment in silence when Jarvis helpfully jumped in to inform him of the reservation's time. Steve had smiled, and Tony had gaped at him like a fish, and, just like that, he had a date with Steve Rogers.

The hours that followed were some of the slowest of Tony’s life. He had been a pile of nerves in a way he didn’t remember ever being before a date. He found himself trying on the suit he used to meet the president and finding it incredibly ill-fitting.

Then, at 6:38, he was ready, exactly twenty-two minutes too early. Fortunately, Steve, being who he was, had also shown up to meet him in the living room early, so Tony didn’t have to wait for long.

Dinner was… surprisingly great. Granted, Tony was almost vibrating off his chair, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He had been outraged by the prices, which Tony found both exasperating and adorable, and after a moment of initial awkwardness, they fell into an easy, natural banter. Steve was a great listener, Tony found. He heard everything Tony said with the utmost attention, but he wasn’t always quiet either – he’d interject with a blunt wit that made Tony grin a little ridiculously at times, and he’d nod at Tony’s rambling as if it were worth listening to.

The restaurant worked, too. It was a discreet bistro not too far away from the Tower. The food tasted delicious, and Steve cleaned up his plate with such voracity that Tony simply had to convince him to order dessert. Steve complained a little, saying it wasn’t fair to let Tony pay for everything, but Tony won the argument, promising he’d let Steve pay next time (Steve didn’t even blink at the suggestion that there would _be_ a next time, which, really, made Tony feel like floating off his seat).

All in all, it was a great choice, even though it was far from the place Tony would have picked to take Steve on a first date – though, to be fair, Tony wouldn’t have been able to rent out the Louvre on such little notice anyway.

By the time they got home, though, Tony’s anxiety had resurfaced again. Even as he grinned at Steve and continued to talk normally, his hands twitched hopelessly in the pockets of his jacket. He wondered if Steve’s occasional lingering gaze was enough of a hint of what his reaction would be if Tony tried to close the evening with a goodnight kiss.

When they got to Steve’s floor, Steve turned towards him and smiled – a large, sincere smile that knocked Tony’s breath right out of his lungs.

“Thank you, Tony. I… To be honest, I don’t remember the last time I had that much fun, in this time.” And he looked a little embarrassed, a little awkward, but still… almost _giddy_ with happiness, as if he had truly forgotten how it felt to be this way. “Thank you.”

And then the elevator doors opened, and Steve got out, and there was no kiss but really, that had been even better. The doors closed, and Tony rested his head on the wall and smiled like an idiot at the ceiling.

That had been date number one. Date number two happened almost a week later, after Rhodey managed to convince Tony Steve wouldn’t _want_ to drop everything and go to Paris with him just because Tony thought anything New York had to offer simply wasn’t good enough. Tony then finally caved and, rambling about how Pepper had talked up the MET’s latest exhibit at the office, asked if Steve would like to go see it on Friday. The way Steve’s face lit up at the suggestion made Tony mentally promise Rhodey a dozen new upgrades for his suit.

“Dude,” Rhodey had laughed when Tony informed him of it that night, “You are so screwed.”

Tony had rolled his eyes and ignored him.

By the time Friday arrived, he was already regretting following Rhodey’s suggestion – what was so great about the MET, anyway? And even if Steve liked it, Tony couldn’t stand art museums, not even the Louvre, so wasn’t this proof of the unavoidable truth that they were ultimately incompatible? It had to be, right? Really, he should just cancel the whole thing and spare them the inevitable misery.

Except then Steve showed up, with a button up shirt and a leather jacket and a bright smile, and Tony’s brain promptly melted and leaked right out of his ears, so. They ended up going.

As the hours went by, walking with Steve through the MET’s hallways, watching the way he frowned thoughtfully at a few pieces and stopped to analyze every detail, Tony’s thoughts changed. Museums could be fun, he realized. Museums could be… witty, and smart, and sweet. Really, museums were so, so…

 _Rhodey is right_ , Tony thought, watching Steve struggle with his phone settings to attempt to take a selfie with a painting and having to fight back an honest to god sigh. _I’m completely screwed._

The following dates only consolidated that reality. He and Steve went to the Natural History Museum, to Coney Island, to the Brooklyn Bridge. The city Tony knew since his childhood seemed to gain new life when he was exploring it through Steve’s eyes. Steve had so many stories, and so many interesting insights about how things had or hadn’t changed, that it made Tony feel that New York was, suddenly, the most interesting place in the world. He started to spend most of his time at the Tower, only going to Malibu when Pepper really, really demanded his presence.

And Steve. Through these adventures, Tony found out so much about him – little things like his favorite ice cream flavor (rocky road), the kind of movies he liked (mostly sci-fi and fantasy, but he was also fond of animations), the fact that he liked buying the newspaper to do the crosswords. He learned things about Steve that Steve himself couldn’t tell, like the way he walked, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he brushed his bangs off his forehead when he was nervous or embarrassed. Things a person could only learn by spending time with him, which Tony was doing in ever-growing levels – and yet, worryingly, it never seemed to be enough.

And, yeah, it was a little… weird, at times. Tony had never dated – or hell, even been attracted to someone for so long without moving things to the physical side of the equation. With Steve, though, that side didn’t seem to exist at all. Two months after their first date, they were going out at least once a week, and they still hadn’t kissed, or, shit, even held hands. 

Tony had thought about it (by God, had he thought about it) but anytime he thought he could take the initiative, something on Steve’s demeanor would seem to stiff, too skittish, and then it wouldn’t seem like a very good idea.

Which leads him to the original question: Tony never, in a million years, thought Steve would want to date him. The entire thing felt surreal and dream-like, and, yeah, maybe he’s a little afraid of poking at it with extra demands. Any desire to bring the topic up easily turns to dust whenever Steve gives him one of his shy smiles and asks if Tony wants to go for a walk at the Brooklyn bridge next morning. The answer is always yes, and, honestly? Tony feels pretty lucky already.

* * *

 

Tony has many, many theories to explain Steve’s lack of physical affection in their relationship. Some of them make sense, others are just purely delirious. Over time, though, and with Jarvis’ help, he has managed to bring it down to three.

The first one is that Steve is worried about Tony’s history. Which, okay, fair – the long line of women (and men) who woke up in Tony’s bed only to be greeted by a robotic disembodied voice telling them a car was waiting outside argues against him, Tony knows. Yes, nowadays, it stings a little that Steve would think he’d do something like that to him, but, honestly, in 2008, he might just have. So he can’t fault Steve for wanting to take his time, for making sure Tony is serious about this before jumping straight in.

The main problem with this theory is that… well, after almost three months of completely chaste dates, Tony isn’t sure what _more_ he can do to show Steve that he values him for reasons other than his cute, perfect, perky ass. At this point, Tony thinks, the fact that he _also_ wants to do a remarkably long list of things to that ass shouldn’t change the fact that he also wants to make Steve laugh, to listen to his thoughts on 21st century tech, and to hold his hand when they’re walking down the street to get hotdogs. He’s pretty sure those things are not supposed to be incompatible. And he thinks Steve must know this, too.

Which leads him to theory number two, one of the simplest: it’s a generational thing. Steve was born in a different time, a time where, if you wanted to have sex with a girl, you had to get ready to marry her and father her children. Therefore, he just doesn’t know how to navigate the many intricacies of modern dating. Of course he wasn’t going to get handsy after a few months – his perception of what a relationship entails is just fundamentally different.

There’s also the sexuality thing, which Tony can only imagine complicates everything a lot further. The sort of thing Tony wants, that he’s been dreaming of – kissing in public, holding hands, spending nights together - just didn’t _happen_ , between two men, in Steve’s world. It just wasn’t within the realms of possibility.

So Tony can understand why Steve could be feeling a little hesitant about diving into a relationship with another man. Steve is already having to adjust to so much, being in a different century – it makes sense, then, that having to adjust to actually being able to live his sexuality in practical terms would be something he’d delegate to a second plan.

Personally, this is Tony’s favorite theory. It’s simple, but it makes complete sense and explains everything. And the best part about it is that it’s something that only time can fix, which means there’s nothing Tony can do about it at the moment. He just has to wait until Steve is ready to take the next step.

Except… well. There’s the third theory.

This one—it’s not so much of a theory, to be precise. It’s more of a thought that keeps leering, nagging at the back of Tony’s mind, sharp and dangerous like a thorn.

It goes like this: maybe Steve just doesn’t want him.

The worst part about this theory is that, even though there’s no material evidence to support it (and Jarvis is vehemently against it), it has a tendency to spiral so much in Tony’s head it becomes almost credible. Maybe Steve just sees him as a friend. Maybe he wasn’t sure of how to turn Tony down, at first, worrying about what that would do to the team, and now he’s almost stuck in this situation, having to deal with Tony constantly. Maybe the reason he tenses up anytime Tony makes an attempt to lay his arm over his shoulders or to lean a little closer is because he doesn’t want to touch Tony at all, but doesn’t know how to let him down gently. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Tony hates this theory. Sometimes, though, he can’t help but think it’s the most believable.

He does his best to push away these thoughts. The best way to handle them, he finds, is to focus on what he knows for a fact about Steve – namely, that he’s the bravest person Tony ever met, and he wouldn’t string Tony along for such a long time if he didn’t want him. No, he’d sit Tony down, stare at him straight in the eyes and tell him: _I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is working._

The image is like a knife to Tony’s chest, but it’s comforting in this sense: Steve would never string him along just for the sake of it. He just wouldn’t.

So Tony is back at number two. And, see, this one – it makes Tony’s heart ache, sometimes, because he so wishes he could take matters in his own hands, here. He wishes he could grab the lapels of Steve’s old, grandpa shirts and kiss the life out of him, regardless of who saw it, to show Steve it was okay, he can have this now. He so, so can.

But Tony is a changed man. He knows he needs to be patient, to let Steve take this at his own pace. Hurrying things has the potential to ruin everything, and that’s the last thing Tony wants.

So when Steve asks if he’s free tomorrow night, Tony really, really wants to kiss him. He doesn’t, though, instead tilting his head to the side in a way he knows is charming (hey, he’s allowed to employ some of his moves) and saying, “Always, Cap.”

Steve’s blush is so precious that it almost makes up for Tony not being able to kiss him. Almost.

* * *

 

The topic of sexuality comes up right after a mission, of all times. They’re both already in their casual clothes, most of the debriefing hell thankfully already handled (except for the report that, of course, Steve will submit later). 

It was a pretty standard op, just some regular ass-kicking in Midtown. Today’s lunatic did manage to get a hostage, but Tony and Thor had handled it very well while Steve, Natasha, Clint and Hulk took care of his minions. In the end, nobody got wounded. The guy’s boyfriend hugged Tony, in armor and all, when he bought the man back safely.

Steve is opening a pizza box and placing a piece on Tony’s place when he says, “Good job, today.”

Tony gives him a nod, too hungry to speak. He takes a bite of his pizza and chews under Steve’s gaze.

Steve sits on the stool opposite Tony on the kitchen island. He fiddles with his hands. “They, uh… They seemed really… relieved.”

From the embarrassment in his demeanor, Tony guesses this is about the couple, who started sucking each other’s faces pretty heavily as soon as the grateful one released Tony.

Tony shrugs with one shoulder. “They’re young,” he says, watching Steve’s reaction attentively. “They probably spend most of their time with their tongues in each other’s throats.”

Steve shifts, his large frame almost comical over the tiny stool. Distantly, Tony makes a mental note to get bigger chairs. “I suppose. They were… Very. Uh. Very open.”

Tony tries his best to not seem too eager, but it’s a challenge. He’s been wondering how to bring up this topic with Steve for _months_ ; he can barely believe his luck. “Right. Nowadays, it’s a lot easier. I mean, not _easy_ , obviously, but… easier. I mean, it’s New York. Many gay couples around.”

“Yeah. I… I mean, I think it’s great, of course.” Tony smiles, because, well, duh. Steve smiles back, but his is a little more subdued. “It’s just… still very different, I guess.” His hand goes to the back of his neck. The look on his face – Tony already knows what it means. It’s Steve's face when he reminiscing. “Back then, you didn’t talk about it. You tried to not let it show, because if you did, you’d be in trouble.”

Tony leans in. “It must be shocking,” he says, studying Steve’s expression. “Seeing it all at once, and with so many people on your back, too, trying to get interviews, get you to speak at Pride…”

Steve’s distant expression melts into a small grin. “I’ll be happy to speak, it’s not an issue. I get it. For a lot of people, it’s really important that I… y’know. Fancy fellas. And if it can help someone, then I will talk about it anytime I can.”

Between the old-timer lingo and the earnestness dripping from every word, Tony’s having a really hard time keeping himself from touching Steve right now, but he doesn’t want to push him. He nods, trying to seem encouraging.

“It’s just—well, it’s like you said. Sometimes it’s still a shock. Back in my day, I mean, of course it happened, but it had to be under wraps. There were specific places where you could go, but you had to be careful.”

Tony tilts his head. “Did you ever…?”

“No,” Steve says, quickly. “No, definitely not. I didn’t go out much. Besides, even if I did, no fella would have looked at me twice.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tony counters, because he’s seen the pictures, and he knows for a fact that, even without the feelings factor, he would gladly have eaten Steve up way before any serum ever touched him. Eskrine didn’t enhance that ass. “Also, it would be okay if you had, you know. With my history, I can hardly judge anyone for... well, anything, really.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head, and then he gives Tony a look that warms him up to his toes. “ _You’re_ ridiculous.”

“Nope. I said it first, I proclaimed it, it is now written: you’re the ridiculous one.” Tony shakes a finger in his direction in mock accusation, then settles his hand back on the table, after a moment. Their fingers are dangerously close. “Seriously, though, what I mean is, we can talk about this stuff. I mean… Really, whenever you want, I’ll be glad to hear it.”

Steve’s smile is _offensive_ , what with the way his pink lips curl and his eyes shine and he looks like he’s not even seeing anything else other than Tony. “Thank you. Really, Tony, I—To be honest, sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His face flushes as he talks, as if he can’t believe he’s saying this, and Tony knows an opening when he sees one.

He leans forward, and Steve is so close. Tony’s eyes land on his lips – those gorgeous lips that look so soft – but he quickly looks away, finding Steve’s gaze instead. He can’t hurry now. This is the moment he’s been waiting for for months. Tony wants it to be perfect.

His hand lands on Steve’s forearm as he leans closer, eyes going half-lidded. Tony is pretty sure he must be giving him the _most_ seductive look he ever gave anyone, because this moment needs to be straight from the hall of fame of Tony Stark’s moves – and, well, Steve set it up for him so perfectly: “Well, fortunately, you don’t ever have to find—"

Tony’s phone rings. Tony’s _cursed_ phone rings, sound breaking through the short distance between his and Steve’s faces, completely shattering the moment that was basically given to Tony on a silver platter.

“You. Uh,” Steve stutters, blinking rapidly, as if he’s waking up from a trance. “You should, uh. Take that.”

“No,” Tony replies in a hurry, his hand flying to his pocket, ready to throw the damn phone out of the window if that’s what it takes. “No, it’s okay, I can just—”

“Sir, I suggest you take the call,” freaking _Jarvis_ chimes in, and now Tony hates him with a passion. “You instructed me to stop you in case you ever tried to ignore Miss Pott’s calls again.”

“Nope.” Tony shakes his head, half-wondering if it would be too weird if he grabbed Steve by the shoulders and just went for it right now. “No, doesn’t sound like me.”

“It happened a week ago, sir. I believe you were quite sleep deprived, but it was still a very clear command.”

“Goddamnit,” Tony says, because the last thing he wants to do is to take the phone and talk about business right now. He hates the phone and hates Jarvis and definitely fucking _hates_ that ringtone.

“Tony, just take it,” Steve says, frowning with disapproval that Tony would have the gall to ignore the always so polite Ms. Potts, and, you know what, Tony hates him too. Him and his stupid kissable lips, just sitting there, merely a few inches away and yet apparently perpetually out of reach.

“Fine.” Tony fishes the phone out of his pocket in a theatrical gesture that he makes sure to make as douchey as possible. “Hi, Pep, my love. What can I do for you?”

Steve makes a strange face, which Tony guesses is his disapproval increasing, and then leans back, standing up.

On the phone, Pepper starts going on about papers Tony needs to sign, and all he can focus on is watching as Steve walks towards the sink and starts washing the dishes. Away from him. Tony sighs.

* * *

 

From then on, it only gets worse.

Tony tries to be patient. He tries to be understanding, and most of the time, he thinks he manages to. He watches Steve laugh at something on his phone - Steve has this dorky laugh that shakes his entire body and flushes his cheeks - and he thinks he can wait, this is enough for now. But then sometimes Steve bends over to pick up something he dropped, and all Tony can think about is how much he wants to stick his dick in that ass so hard, whoever manages to pull him out will be the next King Arthur. It just... happens.

That’s not to say Tony never tries anything again, after the kitchen failure. He makes the occasional suggestive comment, leans in too closely, lays his arm around Steve’s shoulders and looks at him beneath his eyelashes – but, every time he tries, he can feel Steve going stiff, his face growing tense, and before Tony knows it, he’s already backing off, terrified of ruining everything.

 _Maybe he doesn’t want you_ , that evil voice whispers in Tony’s ear, but he tries to brush it off. Steve would _say_ if he didn’t want him. At the end of the day, to Tony’s initial surprise, Steve is every bit as good as the legends said he was – maybe, Tony thinks to himself, watching as Steve patiently demonstrates to Thor how to chop onions, even more.

And being around Steve makes _Tony_ want to be good for him, too. When they first met, part of Tony recoiled, using quips and snarky cynicism as armor against that sincere, goddamn _pure_ display of all the qualities Tony could never have. That, combined with resentment from his dad’s stories and Steve’s own poor first impression of him, had resulted in absolute disaster, but now being around Steve is far from a hardship. And it’s not just something Tony wants, either. It’s good for him. It makes him want to be better. Sometimes – when Steve gives him that small smile and looks at him with those bright eyes shining with something that makes Tony feel like floating – it makes him feel like he _can_ be better.

That, in Tony’s book, is worth dealing with a non-traditional relationship. He knows. He just… wishes he knew _why_ Steve is taking everything at such a glacial – ha, ha, ha, get it? Ice? Okay, fine, maybe the sexual frustration is getting to him a little - pace. He just can’t bring himself to ask.

* * *

 

“You know people had sex in the forties, right?” Rhodey says once, in the middle of one of their many ( _many_ ) talks about the subject. “I mean, there wasn’t Tinder, but people still went out, got naked and bumped uglies. It wasn’t the dark ages—and, for that matter, people were having sex in the dark ages, too.”

“Only after marriage,” Tony replies, pretending to be distracted by a loose thread on the table’s linen. He doesn’t need to look to know Rhodey rolls his eyes.

“Premarital sex started becoming common around the 1920s, Tones. Sure, people would _claim_ they didn’t do it, but that doesn’t mean they were telling the truth.”

“I never paid much attention to history class.”

“This has nothing to do with history class, and everything to do with the fact that people are people, regardless of the time period.” Rhodey pulls the linen to his side, taking the thread out of Tony’s hand. “And also, if there was one thing the Allied forces didn’t care about, was waiting until marriage to get laid. _Especially_ if the goal was getting laid with another dude.”

“Wow. Is this where you tell me you are quitting the Air Force to pursue your true passion as a historian of sexual customs?”

“No, this is where I tell you to stop trying to derail me from my point.” Rhodey leans in, stern face that tells Tony he’s about to get laughed at. “Which is: people in the dark ages were getting more action than you are now.”

“That’s not—Okay, fine, maybe it's a little true…”

Rhodey lets out a loud laugh, throwing his head back. “Oh, man. See, part of me just wants to make jokes about famous playboy Tony Stark going chaste for Captain America, but I actually think this has gone on for too long for me to make fun of it.” He lands a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You need to talk to him, once and for all.”

“We’ve been through this. He’s still—”

“He’s still adapting, I know, you’ve said it a couple hundred times already. But that doesn’t explain anything, Tony. All jokes aside, okay, he isn’t ready for sex, I get that. But how does him not adapting to the 21st Century stop him from kissing you? Or holding your hand? Or, I don’t know, actually acting like your boyfriend at all?”

Tony has no answer to that.

Rhodey’s face grows sympathetic, and he gives Tony’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Look, I get it. This whole thing is new to you, and you don’t want to risk it. But you need to be honest with him, Tony. This is bothering you. You’re craving that cheesy shit.”

It’s probably a testament to how right Rhodey is that Tony doesn’t even dispute that. He looks away, his stomach churning.

“What if… What if he just doesn’t want me?” 

Rhodey scoffs. 

“No, really. What if he got into this because he was too polite to turn me down, and now he doesn’t know what to do? Or, what if he changed his mind?”

Rhodey grins, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who watches the guy like a puppy every time he’s in the room, you’ve certainly missed the obvious.” Tony just stares at him. “He’s completely head over heels for you, man. He looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Tony feels his face flushing. His head is dizzy, blood roaring in his ears at Rhodey’s words. He thought Steve could… but never like that. And now… Tony can’t keep his brain under control – Steve _wanting_ him, touching and kissing and holding him, Steve grabbing his hand under the table, Steve stroking his hair off his forehead in the morning… The images are impossible to avoid, and Tony wants that so much, it’s suffocating. Before, he could keep these thoughts at bay, but now, his overwhelming desire overshadows his fear, and he thinks, Rhodey is right. It’s time to be honest.

* * *

 

Tony has a very detailed, well thought-out plan in his mind when he goes to meet Steve in the living room. It’s a step by step plan of how their conversation will go, and it’s a remarkable show of emotional openness and maturity, almost a masterpiece of communication.

Of course, the minute Steve raises his head to look at him, Tony forgets literally everything about it.

“I need to talk to you,” he bursts out instead. Steve, sitting on the couch, raises an eyebrow, but nods encouragingly towards the spot next to him.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony says as he sits down. He somehow wishes they could have this conversation without having to be so close. He needs his brain at full capacity for this, and feeling his leg touch Steve’s thigh lowers his IQ considerably. “Yeah, everything is… fantastic, actually. Amazing. I--” He turns to Steve and feels his voice softening. “Really, it’s been so amazing, I can barely believe it.”

Steve smiles, seeming a little confused. “What are you talking about, Tony?”

Fair enough, Tony supposes. “You know… this. Us.” He gesticulates awkwardly between them, and Steve’s smile grows, fonder, giving Tony some extra courage. “It’s been… so, so great. I want you to know this.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve says, but Tony kind of needs to keep going right now, to not lose track. “But I don’t know what—”

“And so I want you to know this isn’t—this isn’t, like, an ultimatum or anything. I know it may look like it, I had this whole thing planned in my head but I ended up forgetting it, but I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. I’m… I’m really happy with what we have, right now.”

“Uh. Okay?” Steve frowns slightly.

Tony takes a sharp breath, focusing on his own hands. Not looking at Steve makes it slightly easier. “It’s just… Don’t get me wrong, I’m okay with taking things slow. Totally okay. But I just, I was wondering a little about… exactly how slow you want to take this.” He pauses, for a second, but the silence terrifies him, so maybe he should just keep talking. “Like, the other day in the kitchen – you just… froze, and, shit, wait, I didn’t mean—that wasn’t a joke or anything, I swear. Uh, anyway, the point is, I guess it would help if you gave me some pointers. About… about what you’re not comfortable with, or anything.”

“In the kitchen?” Steve asks, and Tony can’t detect what his tone means. “When Ms. Potts called you?”

Tony sighs. “Yeah. I know my phone rang and all, but let’s be real, you were going to tense up and get all weird in a second, even if it didn’t, and I just want to know—”

“I--” Steve’s voice sounds shaken, and Tony can’t help but look at him. His face is flushed, eyes wide as if Tony said something appalling, jaw clenching. “Tony. That… that wasn’t appropriate.”

Tony’s eyebrows must hit the ceiling. _Appropriate_? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Steve is not some prudish boy scout – what could he find inappropriate about a kissing attempt?

“I know it was also my fault,” Steve says, apparently taking Tony’s silence as agreement. “But something like that can’t happen. It’s not right.”

“The fuck?” Tony blurts, because he just can’t help it. Does Steve’s internalized homophobia run that deep? “What the hell are you talking about?”

Steve’s frown deepens, and there it is, the Captain America Glare of Disapproval, in its purest, most judgmental form. “Tony. You know what I’m talking about. I know I have been… I shouldn’t… ” He looks away, his flush deepening, taking a sharp breath. Almost as if he’s composing himself. “Listen, Tony, this isn’t fair – for God’s sake, you’re in a relationship.”

“Yes,” Tony says, slowly. Some engine inside his brain has started twirling, even if he hasn’t processed why. “With you. What about that makes anything I did inappropriate?”

Steve pauses. Blinks. “What?”

“What?” Tony echoes, ridiculously, because he really can’t bring himself to say anything else.

“This isn’t funny.” Steve abruptly stands up, and Tony notices how his hands shake a little, even as he clenches them into fists at his sides. “I don’t know what kind of joke you’re trying to make here, Tony, but—”

“Steve,” Tony breathes. “Who do you think I’m in a relationship with?”

Steve looks at him, baby blues growing from frustration to confusion. Tony might be wrong, but he thinks he also sees a glimmer of a hopeful expression cross his face for a moment. 

“Ms. Potts?”

If Tony’s brain were a research lab, he’s pretty sure now would be the time when the glowing rock in the study room turned out to be toxic, and every scientist was running around at the same time turning on alarms. “I. What?”

Steve looks away, at the ground, his expression growing pained. “You and Ms. Potts? I knew there was something between the two of you, before, and—and then, I mean, you talked about her so often, and you call her ‘love’ and everything, so, I thought…” He turns towards Tony, those bright eyes looking impossibly blue with that same shy, hesitant hope. “Aren’t you?”

“No.” Tony stands up, in front of Steve, and tilts his head in his direction. “No, I’m not.”

Steve stares at him. Then he blinks, and his mouth falls open, then closes and opens again, like he’s the world’s stupidest, most oblivious, cutest fish. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. He’d be upset, but, honestly, he’s a little filled with a scientist-like wonder at the thought Steve could genuinely think that. Not only because it’s something he didn’t foresee in any of his theories, but because he has a feeling there’s an insight there he hasn’t grasped yet, but he feels he’s very close to.

“And you. You said we were… Are we…” Steve starts, trailing off at the end, still looking a little like a deer in headlights. “Are we dating?”

He doesn’t sound displeased by the idea, so Tony forces himself to shrug with one shoulder. “…Yeah? I mean, at least I thought…”

“Oh, my God,” Steve says, a strong flush coloring his cheeks. “So, the—the movies… And that time in the kitchen… And all those times you’d—” He stops himself, taking a hand to his face. “Oh, my God. This is fondue all over again.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, making a mental note to definitely interrogate Steve about this later, but he still hasn’t gathered enough from Steve’s reaction to find out where they go from here, so he stays quiet.

Steve’s hand drags over his face and lowers when he goes back to looking at Tony. “God, Tony, I—I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Tony shifts, uncomfortable, his hands flying to his pockets. “Mind you, did you think candle lit dinners are just a regular thing men do nowadays in platonic friendships? Because that might explain why you’re having a hard time finding gym buddies.”

Steve looks momentarily hurt, and Tony bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t mean to be an asshole, he _doesn’t_ , it’s just—of all the things he could have thought, this… “I’m sorry,” Steve says.

It’s like a punch to the gut. Tony feels a knot in his throat so immediately it’s almost impressive. He takes a sharp breath, focusing every cell of his brain on not letting the stinging pain Steve’s apology causes take over his expression. There will be time for this later, in the privacy of his workshop.

“It’s okay,” he forces out, his voice hoarse. “Really, you—you don’t need to apologize, it’s, it’s fine. This,” and fuck, is it hard to focus, what with the feeling of the floor coming down beneath his feet and the horrifying realization his eyes are starting to burn. “It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and his expression is impossible to read, because just looking at his stupid gorgeous blushed face is already too much for Tony right now. He just wants to turn around and leave.

“What if I want it?” he asks, and—and it’s seriously scary, how that single question is enough to make air return to Tony’s lungs, to shake him back to semi-solid ground when he previously felt like he was falling down an abyss. It’s terrifying, what Steve does to him.

“Do you?” Tony’s voice shakes with barely disguised hope.

Steve inhales sharply, eyes flickering to Tony’s face. “I do,” he says, and poof, like goddamn _magic_ : the knot in Tony’s throat vanishes, giving place to a warm, delicious feeling spreading from his face to his chest; and he suddenly doesn’t want to leave the room ever again.

Seriously: _terrifying_.

“Oh,” Tony echoes. Then, because he can never just accept a good thing, and his powerful brain has turned to a mush of warmth and sparks and blue eyes, he says: “That’s--that’s nice. I’m… a little curious, though. How could you not know we were dating?”

Steve’s flush deepened, and he smiled bashfully. “I… I thought you were just helping me. You know, spending time with me, making me acclimatize.”

Tony scoffs. “I’m not that generous.”

“Yes, you are,” Steve counters, voice so fond Tony momentarily forgets how to form words. “But I thought you and Ms. Potts were still together. And even if you weren’t… I mean. Fella like you,” Steve looks down for a moment, leaving Tony to marvel at the fact that his eyelashes cast tiny shadows. “Didn’t think you’d be interested.”

 _No fella would have looked at me twice_ , Tony hears in his head, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“Hey.” Tony takes his free hand to Steve’s shoulder, tries to make his voice as sincere as possible. “Not sure how this brilliant strategic mind of yours managed to miss this, but anyone with a brain would be interested in you. And I can guarantee this has nothing to do with the serum – not only because you were already pretty hot before, if sepia toned photographs are anything to go by, but because you’re just—you. I mean, crap, I could barely believe it when you agreed to go out with me. I almost rented out the Louvre just because I wanted the place to be good enough for you.” Steve’s mouth falls open, and, okay, Tony is rambling now, he should just stop talking, but he can’t. “Uh, okay, I didn’t mean to say that, so maybe you could just ignore it, but anyway, my point is, you’re just… really, really great.”

There’s a moment of silence where Steve just stares at him, and Tony feels his face heating and his stomach churning.

He opens his mouth to say something, because as far as romantic speeches go, he’s pretty sure he could have done better, but he never finds out how, because in the next second Steve’s mouth is on his, soft and warm in a kiss that travels through Tony’s whole body. Tony’s lips part almost instantly, and Steve deepens the kiss, his hands going to Tony’s waist and pulling him closer until he feels his solid chest.

It takes a moment for them to find the right angle without bumping their noses. Steve’s hands are a little hesitant on Tony’s waist, as if he’s afraid of hurting him if he holds on too strongly, and Tony can tell he definitely hasn’t kissed many people in the 21st century. The kiss is all enthusiasm and no technique, nervous and clumsy.

It’s the best kiss Tony’s ever gotten. It’s – damnit – the only kiss he wants to get ever again.

“I’m sorry this is so late,” Steve whispers when they pull apart to breathe, but Tony hurries to stop him, pressing a peck to those gorgeous lips.

“Not late at all,” he whispers back, grinning and leaning in again to taste Steve’s smile. “You’re just in time,” he says before their lips touch, feeling giddy. Because, really, when he thinks about it, now he gets to start dating Steve twice. 

And he’s totally renting out the Louvre this time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt chosen: "Didn't know they were dating/misunderstanding! Steve never thought Tony would be the one he explored this new world with, but he couldn't ask for a better guide. He knows all the best restaurants, all the best museums, and he's so handsome, too... if only he weren't dating Pepper!"
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always welcome. You can also reblog the fic [here](https://elcorhamletlive.tumblr.com/post/186058103080/good-old-fashioned-lover-boy-nanasekei).


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